Doomed to Fade
by kingmaker
Summary: Galadriel's vision of the overthrow of Sauron.


(A/N: Just a short fic, written only in the past two days, to commemorate the March 25 anniversary of the destruction of the Ring in Mount Doom. Amazingly enough, I actually managed to stay serious for this particular Lorien Chronicle. Hope you enjoy it, and even if you don't, please submit a review anyway. Oh, and I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or setting, and the imagery of Sauron's shadow comes out of RotK, Book VI, Chapter IV, The Field of Cormallen.)

Doomed to Fade

            Galadriel blinked. The waxing power of the Enemy was sapping her strength as she continued her long vigil. All her long years in this Middle-earth were coming to the climax, and she was helpless to affect it. Between the many orc attacks she had seen in the Mirror these past two weeks and her own instinctual feelings, Galadriel knew that the doom or salvation of this world was close at hand. Letting Frodo leave Lothlorien still in possession of the Ring was the most difficult thing she had ever done for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that she had willingly placed her fate in the hands of another. Would she leave of her own accord, among the last members of a proud but faded race, giving the world to the Age of Men? Or would she flee in haste, racing west ahead of the freely spreading shadow? Or would she be unable to do even that, forced to take the fastest path to the Valar in defense of the rest of her people? She did not know. It was beyond her control and out of her sight. There was nothing to do but stand and wait, knowing that the end was coming. The uncertainty was killing her. 

            So here she sat, watching from the highest mallorn on the eastern border. She was not sure why she needed to wait up here, but she had instinctually come here, away from the city, where there was both solitude and an amazingly commanding view. And it did somehow seem appropriate to spend these uncertain days and hours atop one of her beloved trees. She refused to even nap, knowing that at any moment the doom might fall. At best, the celebration would be muted, because the fall of the Enemy would also number the remaining days of their home. At worst, she would have to commence the swift and complete evacuation of the realm.

            Celeborn had not slept either, although he had been useless as someone to talk to. Since even before the passing of the Fellowship, he had been more withdrawn than ever, rarely talking to her or anyone else. Other than the orc attacks, however, he had almost literally never left her side since the Fellowship left, as though he too knew what was coming and was either supported by his proximity to her or knew what support he was giving her.

            Now, he was silent, his eyes staring ahead and not betraying to what degree he was conscious. Which was, in some odd way, comforting to her, because his presence, seemingly inanimate though it was, provided the certainty that was otherwise lacking from this seemingly endless moment in time, the deep silence of nature before all was decided for good or ill. Galadriel put her arm around his waist and returned her attention to the continuing ascent of the red-gold sun.

            A sudden… something caught her in the gut. She barked an involuntary laugh, wondering what it was she had just felt. She turned. Celeborn gave no visual reaction, except to shift his gaze toward the southeastern horizon. The first fearful shockwave was followed by a second, full of impotent fury. Galadriel shuddered. "This is the hour of doom in which the Ring of Power is either unmade or reclaimed, and our faith in the Halflings is either rewarded or condemned."

            A third wave swept through the trees, but this one was unquestionably physical, though the strong mallorn swayed only slightly. High over the horizon, a vast storm of dark cloud rose, illumined by lightning and flashes of fearful fire. A low rumble assailed their ears. She shook her head. "Fearful deeds in Mordor, if even we should see and hear them."

            Galadriel cut herself off with a gasp at the vision before her. In front of the clouds, an indescribably huge shadow reared up, blacker than the starless midnight. It possessed a royal bearing, and was crowned with a golden wreath of lightning. Galadriel trembled. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Sauron was covering all the lands with a second darkness, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

            He stretched forth his arm in a gesture that embraced the entire west, claiming it as his own, but seemed to point directly at her, an accusation for all the years she had shut the door against him. As a tear for all that was once good in the world began falling down her cheek, a gust of wind came up behind them. It seemed to strike the shadow in the gut as it leaned over toward her. The terrible image began to dissipate, scattering into empty bits of darkness as thin rays of the sun reemerged beyond it. "The realm of Sauron is ended," Celeborn quietly intoned.

            Galadriel gave an explosive sigh of giddy relief. It was just an illusion. A frightful illusion, but now the Enemy was incapable of even preserving such an illusion. He was gone, and for real this time. With unrestrained tears of joy, despite the fact that the fading of Lothlorien had just begun, she embraced her husband and buried her face in his.

            Some minutes later, she heard a cry on the air. A golden eagle was soaring, its feathers flashing in the renewed glow of the sun. Not one of the huge, good, friendly eagles with whom she occasionally consulted, but merely a creature of nature, flying on the winds of a new day. An eagle of Manwe. The Valar were indeed merciful. Long had it been since she was so consciously reminded of that fact. And now it was almost time for her to return to them. With both sadness and joy, she stepped back from her husband and followed the eagle's dive to the river. Maybe there was a plan after all. It certainly was a lovely day.


End file.
